


Took You Long Enough

by NoodleBird



Category: Sabaton (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Apparently nobody can read, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, This kind of took on it's own life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 10:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13702521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoodleBird/pseuds/NoodleBird
Summary: In short, everyone had a soulmate. But that's where it got interesting. Or extremely complicated. Depends on your viewpoint.





	Took You Long Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as an idea to do a collection of ridiculous one shots. Clearly, that didn't happen. It took on a life of its own, and I've rather let it. Some parts of it are disjointed, but I'll try to make it at least flow as cohesive chapters, if nothing else. It's more like a collections of snippets in time. If there's any interest in this, I may post more.

It was a well documented fact that everyone had a soulmate. Not just in the cliched, rom com way, but in a real, tangible and every day kind of way. Somewhere between the ages of sixteen and twenty, most people got a name on their skin somewhere. Usually it was on their arm or ribs or shoulder, like a tattoo, easily covered up or shown off. The mark stayed visible, but faintly so, until you met your soulmate. Then it would darken as the relationship matured. Or fade if it didn't. It wasn't necessary for someone to be involved with their soulmate, but there had been hundreds of studies that preached of the benefits in health and mood and lifestyle.

In short, everyone had a soulmate. But that's where it got interesting. Or extremely complicated. Depends on your viewpoint.

\---------

When Pär was seventeen, he got his soulmark. He'd woken up and dragged himself into the shower, freezing as he reached for the soap as he caught sight of the scrawling letters on his inner elbow. _Joakim_. He brushed it off, not letting his mind run away with the fact that it was a man's name and he wasn't remotely interested in men. He didn't have a girlfriend, but that wasn't for lack of interest. What really scared him was that his best friend of several years had that same name. He didn't know if Jocke had gotten his own mark yet, but he was a little afraid to ask now. They talked about music and history and band ideas. They didn't discuss soulmates.

It didn't really come up again until their band, now _Sabaton_ , began to rise in the charts. _Carolus Rex_ was on its way out and they'd been making waves, and he and Joakim were still the only two who hadn't really… found anyone outside the band. Oskar and Rikard had both found their soulmates. The former even had a child on the way. Dan was pretty seriously dating a girl, and while he'd never said to Pär that she was his soulmate, he wouldn't be surprised. Daniel was gay, something that none of them found terribly shocking when he'd blurted it out, obviously braced for rejection.

And here he was, single and with his best friend’s name in now darker grey on his skin. There wasn't even a remote doubt that it was _this_ Joakim that he'd been saddled with. It was funny, he'd tried to see the other man in a sexual light early on, testing himself, and had gotten nowhere. Now, twelve years later, he hadn't even tried and he found himself far closer to him than he'd ever been before. They fit startlingly well. He'd never managed to ask what the other’s mark said.

And it turned out, he didn't need to.

\---------

Rik was helping Joakim drag their guitars and personal gear back out to the back lot of the studio they'd been recording at, and he laughed out loud as he caught sight of the shadowed outline of letters on Joakim’s ribs at his waist as he leaned into the back seat, settling his keyboard against the gear already inside.

“What?” The singer’s voice was muffled from inside the car, and he extracted himself, frowning up at the guitarist. “What are you laughing at?”

“Your soulmate is _Pär_?” There was incredulity in his voice, and he stood there, shaking his head as Joakim just stared up at him. “What, let me guess, you haven't said a _word_ to him about it because you're afraid to, hm?” Rik dodged a swiping elbow with a sly grin. “You should tell him.”

Eyes narrowed, Joakim frowned, hissing out words between his teeth. “Are you fucking _kidding_? He'll never talk to me again!”

From his place, frozen in the back door of the studio, Pär breathed out a jagged sigh, the closest he could get to the rather panicked sounding whine that wanted to escape. _Fuck, it wasn't just him. Fucking hell…_ He darted back inside, pretending he had left something, and shoved his clammy hands into his pockets. He’d take his bass home and make up some excuse about practice if he was asked...

Rik wandered back inside several minutes later, his face a study in thought. His head snapped up as he realized he wasn't alone in the room and his eyes settled on the bassist where he sat, phone in hand, his face curiously dark with some emotion. “Still here?” When he got no reply, something very out of character, he closed the distance between them. “Are you ok?”

“Just tired, Rik.” Pär’s voice came out flat. “Why are you still here?”

Taken aback by the dismissal, Rik blinked down at him. “You heard us.” He froze as the bassist’s blue eyes darted up to his, grey with emotion.

“What tipped you off?” The same flat tone. He stood, heading for his still unpacked bass and beginning to shove it and his picks and strap into the heavy case, his notes in the large pocket. The actions were mechanical.

“Pär… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called him out like that. I knew he hadn't said anything to you as soon as I saw his face and I should have realized that you could hear us.” Now Rikard was the one who sounded tired. “You didn't know for certain until today either?”

“No.” This time, he just sounded tired, the anger draining from him as he stood, shoving his phone in his pocket. “But I assumed.” He turned away, scanning the room to make sure he wasn't leaving anything. Rolling his eyes as he realized Jocke had left another pair of sunglasses, he picked them up off the stand and hung them over his collar.

The realization hit Rik like a physical blow. “He's yours.” It wasn't a question, just certainty.

Snorting, Pär grabbed his bass and turned back toward his band mate. “Yes.”

“You've never talked to him about it either. What, were you just hoping that it would go away?” Rikard was incredulous now. “That's not how that works. Maybe if you don't know each other, but… wow. So we're all over here with our girlfriends and wives and you two are ignoring each other. Fuck.”

With a frustrated hiss, Pär turned on the other man. “You may have noticed that neither of us is much into men? That being said, I don't know what else I'm _supposed_ to do.”

Folding his arms, not backing down Rikard sighed, his frustration audible. “You should talk to him. You won't know what to do if you don't talk to him. He doesn't have any idea what to do either. I don't know how much you heard, but he told me that he was certain you'd never speak to him again if he told you. I think you're both overreacting a little.”

“Well, I'm glad _you_ think so.” Pär snarled it back, watching Rik jerk back in shock at the uncharacteristic anger, but he was becoming aware that this was just as hard for Jocke. He'd _have_ to talk to his friend at some point. One of them would eventually crack, and now that he knew… it was only fair for him to make the first move. And fuck if that didn't sound bizarre.

“What's that face for?” Rik almost sounded worried now, his voice tentative like he was sure he was going to get yelled at again.

“Uh… just contemplating the fact that I have the upper hand and now I _have_ to talk to him. He doesn't know this goes both ways, I do. It's… not really fair to keep my mouth shut now.” The bass was resting on the floor now, and he dragged a hand through his hair with a groan. “Fuck.”

“I've gotta get going. Talk to him. If you need to rant at someone afterward, call me. I won't tell the wife about it if you don't want me to. It's your business.” Rik put a heavy hand on Pär’s shoulder, shaking his head. “I'm sorry I complicated things. I wasn't thinking.”

“Yeah, yeah… get going. I'll… probably call you later.” The shorter man waved him toward the door. “I have a cold six pack at home waiting. I think I need those for this.”


End file.
